Dysfunction
by Ed's Tomato
Summary: Meltdown/Toad. Love and life in the Brotherhood. Self Destruction and moments of salvation. Kisses and Pain.
1. Prologue and Chapter One

_A/N Well I'm still alive, if anyone wondered. Heh. Not updating any stories of course, just adding new ones (Bad!). This was inspired by countless Tabby/Toad RP's. It's obviously AU, since Tabitha is an amalgam of herselves with plenty of liberties taken to make her very nearly my own (Though she's not. I don't own her or Mort or any of the rest of the subjects of the story, though the concept of their relationship and bickering is mine) and a firm member of the Brotherhood of Mutants (Movie Style)._

_Did a picture companion to this one. Check it out if you like at: akathetoad . deviantart . com/art/Dysfunction-98775380 (sorry for the spaces but it won't let me put links in. :-) )  
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**Prologue:**

When Toad hit her it felt like the floor had opened up and burped fire up into open wounds

Her vision went white and she was ten years old again and her father was laying into her. The fear and despair and strange sort of relief that the large balding man had always instilled in her came bubbling to the surface each time Mort's green hand came down on her soft flesh.

When he kissed her it felt like flying. Like warmth and comfort and everything she'd never had before. He was strong. Stronger than her father had ever dreamed of being. He was gentle with her too: soft caresses and sweet kisses. Her father had never ever been gentle. The men were polar opposites and Tabitha really loved that about Toad, but when his hand came down on her it was all the same again.

He hated himself for it too. She could see it in his eyes after. Feel it in the way he touched her. His tentative fingers stretching out for her hair, petting gently, asking for permission before he'd pull her into his broad chest and make her his again.

But orders were orders, and there was very little to be done about it. One didn't defy Magneto, and above all else Toad was her superior and it was his job to punish when she made a mistake. Mistakes were her forte too, whether it was little stupid errors in judgment or huge cataclysmic errors in aim, the heavy hand was coming down more and more frequently.

She'd lay in a pool of her own blood and stare up at the ceiling, just trying to breathe through the pain and contemplate how fucked up her life was now and had always been.

"C'mon baby."

Toad appeared above her, looking down with a frown of concern before stooping down to carefully gather her into his arms. It was the same look he wore when he found her drunk nearly unconscious or with a fine powdery substance still frosting her shapely nose: disapproval and concern.

"Sometimes I think y'want me t'hurt you," He murmured quietly, supporting her weight as he carried her toward the room they shared most of the time. Tabitha actually had her own room, but she rarely slept there unless Toad was mad enough to kick her out for some reason or other.

"Why the fuck would I want that?" She met his accusation defensively, though it lacked the luster of real outrage when she couldn't lift up her head to say it.

"I could venture a few guesses, but I don't think you'd tell me anyway, would you?" The question was undoubtedly rhetorical, and she didn't feel inclined to answer. Instead she turned her head to rest against his chest and shut her eyes, just enjoying the feeling of being held after an explosion of intoxicating pain. He snorted in irritation at her silence and continued, "If y'weren't so fucked up I'd make you sleep in your own damn room, Tabby. This is sodding ridiculous."

Her jaw clenched, but she didn't attempt to pull away from the comfort of his body.

"You think I'm so fucked up, why do you keep taking me to bed?"

"I honestly, bloody well don't know." He kicked the door shut behind them and carried her to the bed, draping her gently atop the quilt before moving to undress her. "Your ribs are bad, can you breathe okay?"

"Yeah."

He didn't bother with her modesty, he'd undressed her any number of ways before anyway. He stripped her down and started washing her with a wet cloth, petting the spaces of uninjured skin he came across as he went. He really was a sweetheart, even though he drove her crazy when he nitpicked about every little thing.

She shut her eyes and drifted off there, naked on his bed and safe. It was a funny thing. He'd never once hit her out of anger. Sometimes they fought like cats and dogs, screaming at each other and slamming fists into walls, but he never laid a hand on her unless Magneto ordered it.

**Chapter One:**

Tabitha staved off waking as long as possible. The pain hovered impatiently just on the other side of her conscious, ready to slip back in as soon as her eyelids fluttered open. If it was up to her she'd just sleep the whole day away, but a familiar hand pat her backside affectionately and soft breath against her cheek murmured, "C'mon love, Can't stay in bed all day."

She managed to hold a pout firmly in place before her eyes opened fully, which elicited a chuckle from her green lover.

"Why not? I don't feel good," She complained, knowing it would do no good to whine and keeping it up anyway. A moderate amount of guilt was appropriate, at least while she was still wearing the bruises.

"I know baby," He murmured, kissing the backs of her thighs and slowly kneading the calf closest to him apologetically, "But you gotta work through the pain. We all do it."

She rolled over to face him, noting the flinch that passed over his features upon seeing her face. Her foot lifted to rest in his lap expectantly and he obligingly began to massage.

"How bad is it?"

"You've looked worse."

"Can you just not hit me in the face?" She requested petulantly, not for the first time. She knew why he did and that repeated begging only made him feel bad, but she'd never claimed she wasn't cruel.

Sure enough a frown creased his face and he concentrated on rubbing the tension out of the foot in his hands.

"You know Magneto wants to see proof that you've been taught your lesson. If you'd just fucking learn, Tabs," He muttered, doing a poorer job guilting her back.

"Excuse me for not being perfect," She groused, which earned her a glare.

"Don't do that, to me. Aren't one of us perfect, woman. We've all taken our punishments."

"Oh like you ever got punished like I did," She knew she wasn't being fair to him, but she hurt and she felt like pushing buttons. Turned out it was the wrong buttons. He thrust her foot away from him and the glare was significant.

"I got punished a fuckload worse than you ever did, you lazy cow." He growled at her, moving up from the bed, "Get the fuck up and go do something sodding productive."

The girl had always had an issue with control and orders. Part of her craved structure, but it didn't keep her from rebelling when she felt attacked or trapped, even when it was imagined. She curled her lip at him.

"Who the fuck do you think you're ordering around?" She demanded, sitting up with the bitch face firmly in place, "You kick the shit out of me and then you have the gall to call me lazy, you controlling shit?!"

"I'm not gonna say it again, Tabitha, get the fuck up."

She lurched to her feet and ripped open one of his drawers, yanking each article of clothing on violently.

"I swear to God I don't know why the fuck I put up with your abusive ass."

"Yeah, no, you're right," He growled, "You shouldn't. In fact, why don't you stop. You sleep in your own fucking room from now on, you spoiled little cunt."

"Gladly," She spat hatefully, exiting the room as fast as she could. She hated his act of authority, and was more than sick of putting up with it. If he wanted to scream at her he could do it from behind a locked door; she wasn't going to be his little plaything if she wasn't getting squat from it. Times like this she flatly refused to remember how much she genuinely cared about the man.

She spent the day avoiding him, but the facility wasn't that big and around dinnertime she found him in the kitchen, pouring himself drinks from a large bottle of Scotch. He glanced up at her from over a sip of the glass.

"You still being a bitch?"

"You drunk?" She asked back, meanly. He stirred the glass and rolled his eyes.

"Well that answers that. You're training again tomorrow."

"The fuck I am."

His tone really left no room open for argument, so he just gave her a look. She would or she'd feel his hands again. She knew the drill and read it in his expression.

"You son of a bitch," She got out in response, turning on her heel to hide in the room she rarely used.

_A/N I'm going to attempt to update this, my pretties, but you know me. It helps if I'm bugged. So Lather Rinse Repeat Read and Review!_


	2. Chapter Two

**_a/n: Well this is a rather shorter update than I'd hoped for, but it seemed a good stopping point for the time being. I intend to have them longer from here on out, but I can be fickle, so we'll see how it turns out. Thanks to those who've reviewed it means the world to me._**

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**Chapter 2:**

"I keep bleeding love," She murmured at the ceiling as she thought of him in a moment of intense melodrama not unlike her. He was such a good man. A _good_ man. The rest of the world didn't know, but Tabitha did. She'd seen such feats of heroics from him. No regard for his own personal safety. But he could be so cruel. Like all men.

As good as he could be, Toad was still a killer. He had been molded by cruelty and pain. He could have been so many things if genetics had taken a different path. When she was angry with him she refused to see the good. Refused to look inside for the kindness and strength, and only saw the monster the rest of the world did.

She'd been molded by cruelty and pain just as he had. She didn't trust. Couldn't trust. If she ever opened herself up to that her world would come crashing down around her ears, and if Mort wasn't there to catch her?

So she acted like a brat and gave him hell for not picking her over Magneto. For acting as she knew he would and not always passing the rigorous tests she put him through. It was easier than opening herself up and facing the pain that would surely swallow her whole.

She wasn't foolish enough to push him into beating her again. She was still too hurt and too sore to face that again just yet, so when he came rapping at her door the next morning she got out of bed and wordlessly went to train.

There wasn't even the question of taking the moral high ground, she wouldn't. She pouted and refused to speak to him and then went back to hide in her room, determined to wait him out until he'd come to apologize. Beg her back. Then she could save face and dignity and accept him with open arms. Or not, depending on how good the apology was.

Her choice of words must really have been poor though, because he didn't come. Two nights without sleeping in his arms was living hell as far as she was concerned. She did _not_ like sleeping alone, and Toad was the first man she'd really felt safe with as odd as that was.

After a nightmare, which was a common enough occurrence, especially when she slept alone, Tabitha awoke drenched in cold sweat and shivering. She rubbed at her face, trying to push away the nocturnal imaginings that always left her close to tears. She couldn't do this. She couldn't be alone right now. Still feeling _his_ hands on her, crawling over her skin, she lurched out of bed and toward her door.

She didn't care what he'd said or what she had, she needed him. Needed his arms tight around her to reassure that _he_ would never ever find her again. Her bare feet padded across the hall unevenly toward his door, cracking it open just enough to see him inside stretched out on his stomach, her side of the bed still empty.

That was all it took to have her rushing to join him in a soft flurry of desperation. She slipped under the covers and curled in to conform her body to his side. He stirred at the touch and a very groggy voice issued from where his face was pressed into his pillow.

"What'sit?"

She hoped that he wasn't really awake, that he'd fall back asleep and leave her in peace snuggled up to him. She slipped an arm discreetly around his middle and could hear him grumble.

"Tabitha? What're you doing in here?" He sounded irritable and sleepy.

"Go back to sleep," She murmured soothingly, but he wasn't having it.

"I thought I told you to sleep in your own bed," And now he was shifting to sit up, moving away from her embrace.

She had no choice but to sit up as well and face the music, her slender arms wrapping around knees hugged to her chest. She didn't look at him, her chin tilted to rest on her knees and her hair casting her face in shadows.

"I had a nightmare," She admitted grudgingly, and he snorted in response.

"You can't just come crying to me every time you have a bad sodding dream, Tabitha. I told you to get the fuck out and I meant it."

That brought on the waterworks, her heart and throat catching somewhere around the same place as she tried to bite them back but failed. She slid off the bed hastily and moved for the door. He didn't stop her. He was never usually this cruel. Now she'd gone and done it. Pushed and pushed and then finally just pushed him away. She was miserable.

Sinking to the floor to lean against the wall outside his door she just let go and wept into her knees. She couldn't go back to her room. She couldn't sleep. She couldn't be with him. She was just stuck in a horrible lonely limbo. She'd finally made him not care. She could just have killed herself.

Sent into another fit of melodrama she seriously considered the validity of that option for awhile. She could wade out into the waves and let them crash over her. That would be beautiful. It would show him. Only she wouldn't be there to see his response then and that was more depressing than the idea of ceasing to exist.

"Was it about your Dad?"

She hadn't even heard him creep up on her but there he was standing in the open doorway and leaning against the frame, arms crossed against his chest and studying her. She nodded. His expression was stony and unreadable and she fretted further that he didn't care at all, but then he squatted down to face her.

"He can't get you here, Tabitha. You know that."

She knew. She knew, but she was still terrified. Still crying. She'd thought she was safe before and then he'd found a way. And Mort knew that about her too. Something flickered in his eyes, like sorrow or pain and he reached for her.

Strong capable hands clasped her thighs, lifting her to carry facing him. Her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, and her arms around his neck. She turned her face so that her cheek pressed against his collar bone as he carried her back into his room, nudging the door shut behind them with one foot.

"You're safe," He murmured supportively into her ear, "I'll never let him get you. I'll never let him."

His tone was no-nonsense, stating fact or truth and that was more comforting than any passionate swear could be. Toad would kill him. Would kill him as soon as he set eyes on him, and when Toad was angry there was no one more frightening.

Back into bed then, and he didn't let her go, just holding her under him. Cradling her and trapping her. She let out a soft broken wail as she pressed in closer. Her body language begged forgiveness, spoke of all the things she could never say out loud. In the dark, in the night, she was vulnerable for him.

She slept knowing he wouldn't and that things would be quite probably be back to unpleasant when the light of day creeped in through the window. The nightmares didn't come back with Toad to guard her dreams. _He_ wasn't allowed entry.


	3. Chapter Three

_A/N: What you say? An update so soon? I'm just as surprised as you are, dear readers. (There are a couple of you. That reader traffic thingy told me so!) Thanks so much for your kind reviews, those of you who have. I'll do my best to keep this up for your reading amusement. I was a little distracted through this chapter, but I still like the way it turned out and I hope you do too._

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**Chapter 3:**

He was gone come morning, the sounds of his tinkering echoing down the long hallway from his shop. He'd either eaten already or skipped the meal, which was more likely. She figured she could bring him a cup of coffee at least and see what kind of mood he was in.

Steam rose from the proffered mug, the scent catching his attention as she came in. He already had grease up to his elbows but he reached for a rag before accepting the drink and taking a sip, flicking his eyes up to her face and bobbing his head in appreciation. Tabitha shifted her weight, her thumbs linked inside the tight pockets of her favorite jeans as she looked down at her sometimes boyfriend, wondering which time this happened to be.

"You doin' alright?" He asked her as he brought the mug back down from his lips, resting comfortably in a squat and looking up at her.

"Yeah. Better. Thanks. No more bad dreams," She offered, feeling scrutinized as she often did by the eerie gold of his eyes. They were beautiful, but more difficult to read than those of "normal" men.

"Think you'll be alright tonight then?" He asked as he set the mug down on the concrete floor and went back to work on what looked like the remnants of a toaster oven.

"Oh uhm…well…maybe. I dunno." She supposed that meant he was still angry with her and she'd have to sleep in that room again all alone. She didn't really consider the space hers. She'd barely spent a weeks worth of nights there during all her time with the Brotherhood. Mort's room felt like home, the first home she'd had since her mother's death at the tender age of five.

"If you wanna move back in with me, all you have to do is say so Tabitha."

It was never good when he was calling her Tabitha. It was usually Tabby or Tabs or Sweetheart or Love in that super sexy accent of his. Tabitha meant he was irritable, or condescending or had put on his "Boss Pants". She chewed on the inside of her lip as she studied him and mumbled something unintelligible.

"What was that?" He asked, not looking up at her.

"I want to move back in," She knew she was using a tone with him and that he wouldn't appreciate it even before he glanced up at her warningly. Her voice softened just a little bit, "I'm sorry, alright? I know you go soft on me."

He'd made the first attempt at reparations last night, after all, she had to swallow her pride enough to do this. She really did want to be with him and the idea of a long drawn out miserable fight didn't sound appealing. Besides, another one would come along sooner than she'd like and it was better for everyone when they didn't stack up.

"Damn straight, I do," He agreed, a slow grin splitting his face as he reached out with a greasy hand to grasp behind her knee and pull. She had a split second to mirror his grin before she was unbalanced and flailing his direction. A moment later and he was leaning in to kiss her holding her straddled across his waist with his grease-covered hands on her hips.

She relished just being in his arms for a moment, the soft lips on hers, the sweetness of mingled breath. They usually heated things up in seconds, but this time they were just sharing a moment. Then she pushed playfully at his hands.

"You got grease all over me," She pretended to complain, knowing he'd never care what clothes of hers he ruined. He was a pig sometimes that way.

"You look good all messy," He smirked; thumb running over her cheek to smudge it with affection.

"I always look good."

"You look good when I'm on top of you," He purred, moving with her in his arms to press her back to the floor, "and when you're naked." He moved to push the bottom of her once white tank top up over her ribs. His grin hungry and affectionate as he painstakingly removed each article of her clothing, lavishing kisses all over smooth and wounded skin alike.

"But you look best when I'm inside you and you're screaming my name."

…

Several hours later they both lay spent on the floor of his workshop, his arm around her bare belly and leaning in to kiss her shoulder. Tabitha giggled in response, every nerve of her body tingling and stimulated. She loved him. She could never ever say it. That was a vulnerability that no amount of time together could buy, despite how good she knew it would feel to hear the words from his lips if he felt them.

He kissed her nose ushering in further euphoria. She was exuberant they'd made up, the spell between them ebbed and rose like the tides. The high times she fed off his affection like a drug and the low times she went through withdrawals.

"Alright you little temptress, I've got work to do," He apologized with a relaxed smile, spanking her hip lightly as he moved in search of his clothes. She was glowing from their experience, resting her head against her palm, arm bent at the elbow and watching him.

"You think we could go out this week?" Her tone slightly hopeful. Things were going so well again she didn't want to jinx it.

"Mmm, yeah, I guess. Nowhere too well lit, right?"

"Just dinner and a movie or something. Maybe that little place in China Town you like?"

"Yeah. Sure, Sweetheart, you feelin' neglected or something?" He glanced up at her, obviously discounting the time they'd spent apart the last two days since their fight.

"It'd just be nice to spend some time alone together," She climbed to her feet to look around for the remnants of her strewn about clothes, "Get a room or something after for some privacy…"

He nodded as he zipped up his fly, which gave her a thrill of pleasure. _A real date._ Maybe her life had turned around. Mort seemed willing and capable of working with her insufficiencies. If she worked harder and didn't screw up so much, didn't try to test him. Maybe they could really _really_ be happy.

"It sounds real good, Love. How about Thursday?" He suggested, shooting her a smile as he settled back in to work. Another swift kiss after she pulled on her clothes and she was off to make plans and feel deserving of his attentions.

She tended to work this way. Throw herself body and soul into her own betterment after a particularly low point. She threw herself into new relationships, new projects, and new jobs, but they all tapered out, they never lasted. This whirlwind of ups and downs with Toad was the longest and arguably most healthy relationship with anything she'd ever had.

...

Tabitha let out a grunt of exertion as she did another pull up. The last in a set of twenty-four that had her skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat. She'd been so good this week. Up on time to work out, not slacking like usual, she'd even gotten exponentially more accurate at hitting the targets set up for her. She could tell that Mort was pleased with her progress as well. He'd been especially tender and attentive with her lately, even going so far as to make her breakfast one day.

"It's Thursday," Mort announced, coming in to watch her towel the sweat off.

"Yup, we still on for tonight?"

"Course we are, Sweets. M'gonna be right good t'you tonight. All the best for my girl."

"Your girl?" She lit up like Christmas, the towel falling forgotten to rest on the grooved metal flooring. All it took was a sly smile and nod in response to send her careening his direction and leaping into his arms.

"What'd you think y'were?" Mort asked with an amused grin between kisses as he walked, effortlessly supporting her weight, down the hall toward their room.

She didn't have much of an answer for him. She'd hoped, of course, that he saw them in an honest to goodness relationship, but it was certainly nothing they ever talked about. He looked like he'd trimmed his hair for the occasion, a pair of black pants he'd taken the care to wash resting on the mattress in preparation. He plopped her down beside them and waved a hand in front of his face with a grin.

"Cor, Love, could use a scrub, beginning to get a little rank there," He teased.

The playful banter was unusual for both of them, but they were growing more accustomed to it. It was a welcome respite from screaming and slamming doors, cold nights and cold shoulders. She smacked at him and squealed, darting up in pretended offense to disappear into their bathroom for a shower.

"You suck!" She called, "Here I am busting my ass to work out to please you-"

"To please me? What about doing it to keep yourself alive?"

"Yeah yeah, that too, but here I am doing it and you have to give me shit because I smell a _little _bad."

"A little? Vic doesn't reek that bad after he goes huntin'."

"_Hey_!" Her voice cracked as she hit a higher octave, pausing in the midst of massaging shampoo into her scalp.

"I calls it like I smells it, Kitten," Mort chuckled as he stripped out of black flannel pants to start getting ready for their date.

"I hope you know you've just totally given up any possibility of a blowjob tonight."

"C'mon now, I know you better than that. My girl's no cock tease."

"Keep it up, baby, I won't put out at all."

"After the night I'm gonna give you you'll be riding me like a cowgirl," He sounded pretty sure of himself too.

The bathroom door opened and Tabitha stood there totally nude, toweling off her short hair. She gave him a feigned dubious look, the corners of her mouth twitched up just slightly, betraying her.

"I stand corrected," He gave her a very interested once over, "My girl may be a cock tease after all."


	4. Chapter Four

_a/n: Not quite as quick as I'd hoped the update would come, but not nearly so long as the others take (Heh. Sorry about that.) Couldn't let it stay all sunflowers and rainbows forever now could I? And the angst rears it's ugly emo head again...I did want this to be longer, but it's an appropriate stopping point, I think.  
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**Chapter Four:**

"MELTDOWN!_ RUN_!"

Things had really been nice for awhile. Their date had almost been magical. They'd made love in any number of unconventional ways and drank more than their fair share. He'd opened doors for her and they'd fooled around in the movie theater. Tabitha had been glowing when they'd finally returned home.

The problem arose when the glow had worn off, Mort had become distracted with work, and Tabitha felt the need to sway his attention back her direction again. Even that in itself might have worked out under usual circumstances, since Mort certainly didn't mind being sidetracked by his sexy girlfriend, but work was currently serious business.

The Friends of Humanity, or FoH, the most dangerous anti-mutant organization currently operating in the United States of America, had been stepping up their game as of late. The Brotherhood had been hard at work trying to track down their base of operations and the individuals responsible for it's management. The sneaky bastards had hidden their identities effectively for the last two years, but a tip gleamed from a two and a half hour torture session with a local chapter had pointed them in the right direction.

Toad had become desperate to search out the parties responsible for so much suffering. It was obvious to him that Tabitha was lonely for his affections. She didn't make it difficult to read when she would plop herself down in his lap as he was working, and stick her hands down his pants. And, though he knew he'd have to deal with her eventually, he was simply fed up and had taken to avoiding her, even when she was obviously throwing training sessions in order to incur his wrath.

It was all catching up to them now.

It had become obvious five minutes after entering the building supposed to house the leaders of the FoH that they had walked into an elaborate trap. Heavy gratings had fallen over doors and windows, effectively trapping the world-renowned terrorist group. Heavily armed anti-mutant mercenaries laden with protective armor had arrived in the dozens and the small band of mutants found themselves fighting for their lives.

The team wore protective garments themselves, aside for Sabretooth who healed too fast to need it, the Blob who's massive bulk deflected bullets and Mystique who wore nothing at all. Pyro and Mystique had gone in through the west entrance, Tabitha and Toad the East and Sabretooth and Blob had gone in the front. All of them were facing similar predicaments but Sabretooth and Blob were faring the best of all of them, both men trying to rush to the aide of the more vulnerable teams.

Toad's head snapped to the left as he heard Tabby's cry of pain and sprang to her protection, kicking out at the unlucky fool that found himself cleaved in two where his armor was seamed. When he focused his attention back on the girl he was dismayed to find her right arm hanging limply at her side and blood blossoming over the skin between her protective bodice and where the shoulders of her dark pink gloves began. There were just too many of them and the two of them were crippled without the use of a ranged power.

Tabitha was still doing what she could with her left hand, tossing bombs into the mix, but without hitting a bulls eye in the vulnerable points the explosions did little but throw the men back a few paces, and if lucky, embed a little shrapnel where her bombs had missed. Toad's tongue snapped out for a dropped machine gun, hoping to even up the odds a little, but the spray from another man's weapon peppered the tip of his tongue, sending pieces flying and Toad considerably less dexterous with it.

Reeling it in, he spat blood and contented himself with throwing what knives he had littered over his person, his aim significantly more accurate than his girlfriend's. The battalion was closing in, however and Toad was fully aware they didn't have much time.

Blob reached Meltdown and Toad. Throwing his bulk between teammates and gunfire he flashed the jolly smile so characteristic of the large man.

"Tickles," He commented of the countless score of bullets showering his back.

Tabitha's injury was slowing her down but she was nestled below the line of fire. Toad reached out with an unforgiving hand to catch her arm just above the elbow and haul her back the way they'd come, grip tight enough to leave bruises. Freddy, The Blob, Dukes had shown up just in time, but they weren't out of the woods yet.

"Move your arse, Meltdown!" Toad shouted again, trying to snap her out of her fear-induced stupor and into action. Blob couldn't be shot but that didn't mean there wasn't anything they could do to him, trapped like he was. They were all aware that even as the bullets bounced back at those firing them, others moved steadily closer and would soon attempt to overtake the behemoth of a man.

"_Blow the wall_!"

That desperate order proved disastrous. Whoever these people were, they'd done their homework. The detonation only left scorch marks on the wall, but succeeded in hurling both Brotherhood affiliates back into the mass of the Blob. It was much like hitting a trampoline, and Tabitha careened back at the pitiless metal structure ending up stunned on the floor, while Toad spun in midair to hit the surface feet first and cling in a crouch.

The tension in the air was becoming more tangible as Toad frantically sprang to collect his fallen lover and wrench her unceremoniously back onto her feet. She was a soldier; she had to adapt. He spared just one moment to consider how angry he was going to be at her for slacking off in her training before he was holding her up against his side and fumbling for the radio strapped to his belt.

The enemies and Blob respectively were moving closer, pinning the threesome back against the sealed door.

"We're pinned down! Bombs aren't blowing it!"

"Magneto's coming," Mystique's oddly modulated voice came back to him, "Just hold your position."

"Bullocks," Noticing Tabitha had started to slide down his side, pale with blood loss but not yet dangerously so, Mort tightened his grip on her and pulled her back up. He rushed to thrust her at Blob and turned to square his shoulders at the incoming squad of mercenaries himself. The big mutant would have a better chance of keeping her protected if that was all he had to do.

Preparing to spring he was well aware he was probably about to go down fighting and spared another moments thought to how sorry he was that he wasn't going to get the chance to be angry at her for not working to protect herself better. That was all the luxury of regret he had time for. Gripping curved blades in either hand he dropped into a powerful crouch, tensing legs capable of propelling him twenty feet straight into the air.

Unfortunately, no amount of muscle was helpful when they brought the gas out. Noxious purple tinged clouds filled the room before Toad even had a chance to engage. He cast a glance back as though in slow motion, the world tilting around him crazily, to see Blob go down first, Tabitha having to dance out of the way at the last second to avoid being squashed before she too fell to her knees. Her glassy gaze held his before they both closed. Her lips moved, and though he couldn't hear her, he knew what she'd said.

"Love you."

...

Some indeterminate time later, Toad's vision swam painfully back into focus as a great groan tore through the building and Magneto's imposing voice boomed through the hallways in search of his fallen comrades. He forced open his eyes and struggled to his feet, one hand groping for the still solid part of the wall to lean against for support. He saw Blob doing likewise, smacking himself in the head a few times as though trying to get water out of his ears. He understood the feeling. He had to concentrate hard to focus through the roar of nonexistent white noise to hear the comfort of familiar voices.

He was fairly certain they hadn't been unconscious long judging from how the effects lingered and the still smoking bodies left in Pyro's wake not far from where they'd fallen. Sabretooth appeared behind Toad to scruff his collar and keep him upright, Mystique leaning a few feet away with her arm around Pyro. The Aussie always carried a gas mask with him lest the smoke from his own fire became too much to handle. Toad supposed they must have battled their way close enough to prevent anyone being killed or taken. Relief flooded over the amphibious mutant.

Magneto, levitating on a slender silver disk just outside the wrenched apart doorway he'd created, frowned as he took in the most concerning detail of all, turning all of Toad's new found relief into full blown panic.

"Where is Meltdown?"


	5. Chapter Five

"They're playing with us. With you," Mystique commented unnecessarily as she rested a hand on Toad's shoulder.

There were no words that accurately described the expression on Tabitha's face at her waking. The terror was palpable even though her mouth was covered with a gag, and the image on the screen was small and distorted. Toad leaned forward in his chair to try to distinguish her features. He thought he saw recognition in her expression but there was no way to be sure. His gut wrenched for her.

"You think I don't know that?"

"And yet you keep watching."

"..." He didn't even spare her a look. He had to find her, she knew that.

"Watching Tabitha cry isn't going to tell you where she is. Don't get emotional over this, it'll cloud your judgment."

He kept his attention glued to the screen, bristling slightly at what he knew was good advice that he just couldn't take. He was already too emotionally invested in this; in _her_. He knew now what kind of fire he'd been playing with. It had been more than foolish to start up something with the blonde, now, despite all his better judgment, her life was more important to him than the Cause. He knew, he could never admit it to anyone, not even Tabitha. It was terrifying enough to admit it to himself. If he got her back…._when_ he got her back, he'd have to have a long talk with her. Try to distance himself a little.

Whoever or whatever Tabitha was looking at offscreen was making her shiver in the seat. Her hands were duct taped together behind her back, the camera was angled enough to catch the silver. The tape was effectively nullifying her powers. She'd blow off her own hands if she tried to escape. He wondered if it would come to that.

The Brotherhood had scoured the facility once they were armed with Magneto, clearing out the very few remaining enemies and looking for their missing teammate or any hint at where she'd been taken. They'd come up empty. Whoever had planned this had done their job well and it was obvious that Tabitha had been the target. No one believed that they'd taken her by chance. Perhaps because she was the youngest, the most inexperienced, the perceived easiest to break. Maybe there was something they didn't know about. Tabby was quiet and elusive about her past, and while most of the Brotherhood was the same way, Toad wished that he'd grilled her more for information. This wasn't a situation where one could afford the luxury of privacy. Had he not become romantically involved with her, he would have seen that earlier. It might have saved her life.

He was very pointedly and consciously trying to scrub out the memory of her lips forming that admission of love before she passed out. He couldn't lose that before he properly had it, and he couldn't afford to let her give it at all.

The girl was tied to the chair in the center of a grey concrete room, a gag tied tight enough to stretch her lips painfully around it. The color on the camera was grainy and the girl was cast in shadow, but Toad was sure he could make out the purple of a bruise over her eye and cheek, the gathering of blood in the corner of her mouth. He'd done far worse to her himself, but the fact that a stranger had done this made his blood boil.

The bastards were broadcasting their torture of the girl on network television news. A warning to all mutants what would happen when they crossed the Friends of Humanity. And a way to stick it to the Brotherhood and make them feel powerless. Toad wasn't so stupid as the rest of the public though, he knew this had been carefully orchestrated.

A muffled sound onscreen brought him out of his reverie and he narrowed overlarge golden eyes to study the figure that was blocking his view of the girl. Wide in girth, but Toad couldn't tell from this angle if it was muscle or fat. Tabitha was wailing around the gag, sounded as though she was freaking out. He couldn't imagine what would make her lose her decorum like this; he'd trained her better than that. A flush of anger at her and shame helped in scrubbing away those pouty pink lips that mouthed words he would have given anything to hear.

When the figure moved back out of the way he could see the way she cried. Her face would be turning red now, he realized with all certainty. She'd be taking those shuddering breaths and probably getting snotty. Her lips would tremble in that way that got him hard despite how perverse it sounded.

The man had cut her across the chest, written something across her chest that was blurred with blood and indistinguishable. Toad leaned forward to get a better look. It might be 'Slut'. He frowned at that. Not the usual name for mutants. He would have expected Freak or something in that vein. 'Slut' spoke of something else, and pricked at his subconscious demandingly. He was missing something. He damned himself again for not researching the girl's past more thoroughly.

He found himself on his feet and pacing before the television as her captor took a handful of her hair and yanked her head back to loom over and kiss her through the gag. The chair Mort had been sitting in splintered as it slammed into a far wall courtesy of his boots. What _was_ this_? What kind of message were they sending?_ Didn't they know this only served to make them look _more_ like monsters? They'd be driving away many of their supporters with stunts like this. That realization made his blood run cold. These people were smart enough to orchestrate all of this, then they had to know how this show would be perceived.

The man onscreen fisted one of Tabitha's breasts. That meant it wasn't for the public and they didn't care who they drove away. That meant Tabitha and the Brotherhood were in far more danger than anyone had anticipated.

"Who did you piss off, Tabitha?" Mort murmured, eyes narrowed, "What kind of shit are you in_? What kind of sodding shit have you gotten us into, Tabitha?_"

The monitor exploded in a shower of sparks and broken glass as it impacted the far wall, the green terrorist's shoulders heaving with emotion as he glared at his handiwork. He couldn't sit there and watch the man rip open her top with a knife and abuse the tender flesh he was so fond of.

He stalked purposefully toward the hangar, hobnailed boots clacking on the metal floors at regular intervals as he considered how he would gut the bastard who had laid hands on _his_ woman.


End file.
